The Tiniest Bit Unlucky
by imobsessedwithharrypotter
Summary: Imagine if Harry was unlucky, Draco was smarter, and Ginny was braver. Now, love is the only thing that can save the world from the wrath of the dark lord.


Hihi everybody! With the help of Sianatra, I've been able to make this story amazing. She has added the wonderful details to turn this story from 2D to 3D. Thanks, Sarah! Oh yeah, and I'm not the owner of Harry Potter, so don't go around saying that I think I am.

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Note that this story begins at the Malfoy Manor scene of the seventh book. So you may need to review the book. Oh yeah and I sorta transformed Draco into a smarty pants, so beware his new found brilliance! (How could I have such a twisted mind to believe in a smart Draco Malfoy?)

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"Is it him?"

"Is it Harry Potter?"  
Draco's eyes narrowed to slits, and a brief flash of annoyance flickered across his pale, pointed face. "There's only one way to find out, you idiots," he snapped. "Let's reverse the jinx, shall we?"

Harry cringed as Draco stalked forward, drawing his short hawthorn wand from under the folds of his black cloak. If a counter jinx were to be cast, no one in the room would be able to mistake his identity: In short, it would be impossible to convince them that he was merely an innocent boy who bore a striking resemblance to the Chosen One.

He would be dead within the hour.

"Andiguida," muttered Draco, pointing his wand directly in between Harry's eyes.

All of a sudden, a peculiar sensation came over Harry's face. With a jolt, he realized that it was deflating; the jinx Hermione had cast upon it no longer in effect…

Draco lifted a messy clump of hair from the center of Harry's forehead and smirked. "It's him, alright," he assured his companions. "He has the scar."

"Well, well, well," said Lucius, a malignant sneer creeping onto his lips. "If it isn't Harry Potter himself, come to grace us with his presence."

Bellatrix let out a triumphant shriek; her curly black hair seemed to be tingling with the excitement of the situation, and her hollow, dead eyes were alight with a frenzied kind of joy. "We've got you now Potter!" she screamed vindictively. "We've got you, and there's no escaping this time!"

Ron struggled at his bounds. "You're never going to get away with this!" he shouted, his voice bouncing around the room, echoing. "Harry's not going to give up just yet! We're going to keep fighting until we've brought y– "

Lucius smirked and flicked his wand at him; Ron fell quiet instantaneously under the effects of the Silencing Charm.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Weasley," drawled Lucius, raising the sleeve of his robes, "that we already have gotten away with it."

And he pressed his Dark Mark.

Pain burst forth from Harry's skull: he was suffocating, he couldn't breathe; the red eyes staring into his own surely must be Death's…

And then he was there. Voldemort.

He stood inches from Harry's face, peering intently into the brilliant green eyes of his worst enemy: The adversary who had evaded him for seventeen years, but who was now about to be killed properly...

He raised his wand, a gleam of scarlet flashing in his eyes.

"Avada Ked – "

"Wait."

The voice rang out cold and clear.

Voldemort tore his gaze from Harry and whirled around to see who had interrupted him, when he was so close…

Draco stood in the center of the room and evenly met Voldemort's seething glare.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" spat Voldemort, fingering his wand with relish. "What could you possibly want?"

"I have a proposition, My Lord."

"And what exactly would that proposition be, you absurd little boy?"

"You've waited seventeen years. Seventeen years of pain. Shouldn't your greatest enemy deserve to be as tormented as you were all those years? Think about it, My Lord. A second of pain compared to a lifetime of torture. Which is the better deal?"

"Admittedly, a clever suggestion. But what – if this plan was implemented – would you decide upon doing with Potter? What possible torture would be good enough to equal with all the years I suffered?"

"Slavery." The answer came, unbidden, to Draco's tongue.

Voldemort nodded his head slowly. The brilliance of this plan was beginning to reveal itself to him. Instead of killing Potter, he could bestow upon him a lifetime of pain and humiliation…yes, it was exactly what the little brat deserved…

"Thank you, Draco," said Voldemort. "You are dismissed."

Draco swept into a low, reverent bow, and then promptly exited the room.

Voldemort snapped his attention back to Harry. "Where's his wand?" he demanded of Greyback.

"This is what was found with him," said Greyback, holding the blackthorn wand out to his master. The Dark Lord examined the wand with little interest.

"This isn't it," he said, snapping the wand in two.

His cold eyes swept the room until they landed on Ron and Hermione.

"Where is his wand?"

Neither of them answered: Ron was still under the Silencing Charm, and Hermione was mute, too terrified to speak.

"Crucio!"

And then Hermione was writhing with pain, it clawed at her, burned under her skin like white hot flames, lapping at her senses, dragging her under…

But then it ended. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing, heaving for breath.

"Tell me the location of the wand, Miss Granger." His voice was deadly.

"It's broken," she finally managed to stutter.

"Where is it?"

"At the camp, with Harry's other stuff."

"Very well, then. Greyback, if you'll please…"

Greyback gave a curt nod and Apparated without another word.

"As for you three…" said Voldemort, a dangerous edge to his voice. "I believe there is still punishment to be executed…"

He raised his wand at Harry's chest and uttered the spell.

"Imperio."

Harry's eyes glazed over, and his head lolled slightly to the side.

"From now on," began Voldemort, "You will be a slave. You will work for my Death Eaters and I under the exclusive care of Draco Malfoy. You are to obey him fully and perform whatever tasks he so wishes to put upon you. There will be no resistance of any sort."

He moved on, and cast the spell on each Ron and Hermione in turn.

Then, with one last satisfied glance, he vanished in a swirl of black, leaving the room swathed in darkness.


End file.
